From Publishers Weekly
Weary and hard-boiled, the firefighting hero of Ashbaugh's (Downtick) tough-guy thriller has, regrettably, too much in common with the novel's prose. As the mansions of Westchester County burn down to the manicured ground and not a pillared portico is left uncharred, fire marshal Jake Ferguson and his deputy Don Ederling answer the community's distress. Their opponent, the suburban arsonist, targets only the houses belonging to the executives of Morson Grayhead, "one of Wall Street's few remaining independent financial juggernauts," striking only when the wives are home alone. Downtown Manhattan, as Ashbaugh portrays the financial district, is soiled with the filth of lucre and base greedAthe motive, it seems, for the murders and firesAwhile the suburbs are riddled with bitter domestic secrets that may also play a part in the conflagrations. The investigation does not go smoothly, nor does the prose: "Jake felt stymied, unable to break the heavy cloak of secrecy blanketing the darkest core of the case." Far more gripping than the identity of the arsonist are Ashbaugh's fascinating, albeit grotesque, descriptions of burned bodies. A Wall Street exec and volunteer fireman in Maine, Ashbaugh brings experience to the well-researched background of a thriller that would have benefited from language that rose above the stiff and banal.
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
From Kirkus Reviews
Westchester County burns while an evil genius fiddles around nefariously. He's ruthless, he's greedy, he's devilishly clever; he's as elusive as the Scarlet Pimpernel and as fiendish as Hannibal Lecterand Chief Fire Marshal Jake Ferguson has to catch him before he makes a conflagration out of the entire state of New York. It begins when Chief Jake is rousted from his bed one summer night by a phone call from his trusty second-in-command. He hears those dreaded words: ``I think we've got another one.'' A house belonging to a senior executive of Morson-Grayhead, an eminent Wall Street investment firm, is in flames. Discovered chained to her bed was his wife, raped before being roasted alive. And it is, in fact, the same m.o.: a second Morson-Grayhead executive; another raped wife burned alive. Clearly, someone is sending a message, although, to Jake's fury, Severin Rybeck, the chairman and CEO of Morson-Grayhead, stubbornly refuses to acknowledge it as suchuntil the madman strikes yet again. But why is all this happening? And how does the motive (whatever it is) connect to the investment house? Or to Severin himself? The answer isn't simple, but then you knew it wouldn't be. It involves vengeance, extortion, and, of course, rampant insanitythat useful catch-all for writers who care more about the what than the why. Halfway through the story, Jake identifies his firebug. The rest is chase, chase, chase, ending in a climactic auto-da-f as the evil genius and his scams go up in smoke. Very little finesse in this second effort (after the paperback Downtick, 1998), but sincerity theres plenty of. Ashbaugh really cares about his firefighters. He just doesn't write about them well enough. --
Copyright ©1999, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
